The Ouroboros
by lokilette
Summary: Tired of human stupidity, Death decides to teach those who sought to be Masters of Death a lesson. Thinly veiled as a favor, Death offers Tom Riddle a second chance, the opportunity to be born again and live a new life. Some things are just too good to be true, and Tom soon learns there's a catch. There always is. Rated T for swearing.
1. The Snake

_The Elder Wand – The Resurrection Stone – The Cloak of Invisibility_

 _Death bestowed these gifts upon three brothers with the promise that whomsoever should possess all three would become the Master of Death._

 _Wizards coveted them._

 _They cheated, swindled, stole._

 _They killed._

 _And he laughed because he had failed to mention one single, overriding truth:_

 _Death has no master._

 **...(X)...**

Humans were simple creatures, so what did he really expect? Any dog will nip when backed into a corner, and Death had a habit of forcing every living thing up against a wall eventually. Like the petulant whelps they were, they had to be reminded of their place. Many had challenged him over the years, and many had failed. It was as it was intended to be.

These things always happened in threes. One who wanted to revive the dead; one who sought unlimited power; one who strove to ward off death.

Of the first three men who attempted to tame him with the Hallows, only one had any measurable degree of success, and even that was short-lived, as all things are. But these last three, well, they certainly had the gall, didn't they? They were as promising as they were disappointing, and when they had fallen, eventually destroying each other, Death felt his hope for humanity waning.

While it is true all good things must come to an end, eternity was a rather boring prospect, and he wasn't ready for this bit of entertainment to come to a close. Not quite yet.

So he formulated a plan. It was underhanded, but then again, he was Death. It was second nature for him. The details had taken some time to sort out, and Life wouldn't like it one bit. All the better. As if he spent his free time concerning himself with her convictions.

Death required no permission, and he offered no apologies. Already the cogs were in motion. Three souls were slotted to learn a valuable lesson that it would do well for humanity to never forget: Death cannot be conquered.

 **...(X)...**

The fog shifted as he passed, bowing to his will, as all things did. It coiled behind him like a snake poised to strike, writhing as if it was actually alive. But of course that wasn't the case. Nothing in that forsaken land lived.

Limbo had always been a quiet sanctuary from Life and her pesky pets. That is, until six years ago when it had become infested with a rodent who refused to die. His soul—or what little was left of it—was stuck there, doomed to suffer for eternity as a reward for his transgressions. That meant Death was doomed, as well, to bear the moans and wails and cries. While Death had to admit that his own transgressions may be many, there were none so egregious as to warrant that sort of punishment.

Even as he sliced through the fog, as far away as he still was, he could hear the unearthly wail in the distance. It wore on his nerves. The blasted creature could at least have the decency to suffer in silence.

Death waved his bony hand impatiently, and the fog shifted out of his way, clearing a path to the wretched, fetus-like lump that was all that remained of the man who had insisted on calling himself Lord Voldemort. Some lord, indeed.

"It seems this is your lucky day," Death said, his words raspy and drawn out. The pitiful excuse for a soul at his feet didn't respond, so he gave him a good kick, sending him flying into the fog. Death followed, taking his time, relishing the click that his metatarsal bones made against the tile-like surface with each step.

The fog dissipated, exposing Tom Marvolo Riddle, curled into a fetal position precariously close to the edge of Limbo.

"I had quite the conundrum," Death said as he stepped beside the soul. He circled it slowly, bones clicking and robe creating a hushing sound as it ghosted along the ground. "You can't go forward, not with that pathetic thing you call a soul. No, you can't move on. And obviously, you can't stay here. If I have to endure so much as a single year more of this, Chaos help me, I can't be held responsible for what I do. But, who's to say you can't go back?"

Death paused, waiting for a response, but there was nothing. Who knew if his words were even getting through at this point. What a waste. This soul had started with such potential—writhing with power and color. To come to this, a gray-and-black mottled mess that could hardly be called an aura, well, it was a travesty.

"You should consider yourself quite fortunate. After all, it's not often that a soul gets a second chance. Just do us both a favor this time and don't cock it up. I won't be so forgiving the next time. If it should come to it, I'll just pass on your broken soul and it should be nicely obliterated during the transition out of Limbo. Remember that when you decide what course this new life will take."

Death took a deep breath and let it go with a heavy sigh. His words were most likely in vain. Humans were terribly dull creatures that learned best from their mistakes, but there was no telling how many blunders they would make before the lesson finally lodged itself in their tiny, little brains. So be it, whatever the outcome.

Death drew back his foot and gave Riddle a sharp kick, sending him tumbling over the edge of Limbo. He twisted and spiraled as he fell, until he was finally swallowed by the opaque clouds beneath them.

At the very least, Death reassured himself, this should be interesting. Let the games begin.

 **...(X)...**

The last thing Tom remembered was green—desperate, terrified green eyes; the green flash of a familiar spell; the Dark Mark blazing green in the sky overhead. And then black.

Everything after that was unbearable, indescribable pain, as though he were caught in a vortex of Fiendfyre that was simultaneously melting his skin and searing the wound all at the same time. There was no escaping it, no abating it. He was alone with his agony.

Then he was falling, and the pain was slowly stripped from his body as he descended. Something about a second chance. A clean slate. A fresh, new soul, and this time, he'd be more careful with it. This time, he'd be unstoppable. He'd make sure of that. Whatever his circumstances, there would surely be a way to make the most of it, a way to garner its advantages and mitigate its shortcomings. He had a whole lifetime of lessons cultivated behind him to put to use this time. Nothing could go wrong.

The falling was exhilarating, and anticipation broke over him in waves. He was ready for this. More than ready. Wizards would once again tremble and kneel before him. Willingly, gladly, he embraced the darkness as he fell into its soft cocoon.

 **...(X)...**

 **[July 11, 2004]**

The first thing Tom remembered was the oddest, most foreign sensation, like a tickle almost. What was it? Noise! That was it. Faint, at first, but gathering substance as he focused. He was hearing for the first time, and he almost regretted it. Merlin, he was annoying, but his lungs were acting on their own accord, and there was no stopping the shriek that radiated out of them.

A newborn. How could he have been so stupid? Every life started at birth. He should have _known_ that. Still, it was a small oversight. What were a few years of growth in the overall life of a great wizard? It was a trivial matter. If anything, it gave him time to observe the state of the world and better prepare. Everyone overlooked and underestimated children. He couldn't have asked for a better way to blend in.

The darkness grayed as his eyelids fluttered. It took some effort and a lot of coaxing of a very uncooperative body to finally manage to force them open, and the reward was little more than a blurry mosaic of colors. What good was that? The light dimmed, and his vision was swarmed by something green.

"He's so, er, tiny," a voice directly over him said.

"Of course he is. He's a newborn, Harry," another replied.

Harry? So his father's name was Harry. A terrible Muggle name, but this wouldn't be the first time. He could get rid of him, in due time, as he had his first father, if it came to that.

Something bumped against his hand, and his fingers trapped it in a death grip. No! What ridiculous nonsense. Bloody reflexes. He scoffed at the idea of holding tight to someone's finger, but he couldn't coax his body to let go, either.

"He's just so...perfect." There was a sigh, and he caught a glimpse of red as something brushed against his cheek and a kiss was planted lightly on his head. Disgusting. The whole situation was absolutely abhorrent. It was only temporary, though, he reminded himself. He would grow quickly enough, gain his freedom—by force, if necessary—and set his plans into motion.

"Welcome to the family, James Sirius Potter," the man said. All he could see was green as someone's lips brushed his hand.

Wait, Potter? Surely he'd heard wrong. Newborn ears were unreliable, at best, and he still couldn't stop himself from making all sorts of unseemly noises. It was like his body had a mind of its own and did things just to spite him. So surely he was mistaken. It couldn't be. It wouldn't be.

But even as he squirmed and fussed, there was no dismissing it. Even he couldn't mistake those green eyes that hovered over him. Damn that bastard Death. Damn them _all_ to hell. He'd make them all pay, if it was the last thing he did.

 **...(X)...**

 **[October 13, 2004]**

"C'mon, James, just hold still, will you?"

He most certainly would _not_. Of all the indignities he could face in life, even in a second life, to come to this, the Potter brat _wiping his ass_. He almost wanted to die again just to spare himself the humiliation. Almost. But that wouldn't serve his purpose very well, now would it?

So instead, he squirmed and kicked and fussed and did everything he could to be difficult. The moment the cold air touched his exposed skin, he stopped moving just long enough to concentrate on getting his body to cooperate. A familiar warmth ran through him, and he smiled inwardly—since his bloody mouth refused to cooperate—at Potter's exclamations.

"Oh, no, no, no, no!"

"Is everything all right in there?" a groggy voice called from the other room.

"Fine, Ginny, everything's fine. James just had a little accident is all. Go back to sleep."

A little accident Merlin's beard. He had made sure to pee on _everything_. It was a shame that magic made cleaning so easy. A quick _scourgify_ and a new diaper, and things were all better, according to Potter. How he loathed that sickeningly sweet tone and the constant false reassurances. Most of all, he hated those emerald eyes, so full of _love_. It was unbearable. As soon as he was able, the first thing he would do was cut them out.

"Up we go, buddy," Harry said as he lifted James into his arms. It was warm, pressed against his chest like that, and something in the recesses of his brain craved the safety of it. Even more absurd, Potter's mere presence seemed to ease his restlessness. It was infuriating.

As if being helpless and useless wasn't bad enough, but to need to rely on _Potter_ , now that was a nightmare. It was unforgivable. Worse yet, he had years of this ahead of him. _Years._

"There you are," Harry whispered, setting him down gently in his crib and tucking a blanket over him. "Back to bed."

Standing over his crib, he realized just how exhausted Potter looked, with bags large enough to fit an army in dangling beneath his eyes. Good. Why wouldn't he? He'd certainly done everything he could to make their life a living hell, which included waking every half hour to an hour, just to see them drag themselves out of bed. They would break eventually. All things did. Until then, he enjoyed the power he had over them, despite the circumstances.

The light clicked off, and the door squeaked softly as it was pulled closed. He was alone, and he could just barely make out the sounds of Potter shuffling off to bed with hardly the energy to pick up his feet. Like music to his ears.

But he wasn't really alone. He knew it the moment the shadows on the ceiling started to writhe as if they had come to life. From somewhere outside his crib, there was the rattle of bones and then a low, raspy laugh that sounded like it was pried from dry, withered lungs. He had been wondering when he'd have the nerve to show his face again.

A hooded head appeared over him, and the wood of the crib creaked as a weight rested against it.

"I do hope you're enjoying your second chance. I tried to pick a good home for you. Solid wizarding family, half-blood and pureblood parents. Very powerful. War heroes, in fact. Thought you'd find that to your liking, Tom. Or should I call you James now?"

That bastard! It had all been intentional! He had been set up from the very start. He tried to force his body to cooperate, to find a way to express even the slightest hint of his rage, but all he managed to do was fart and fuss. It was only further confirmation of a conclusion he had reached long ago: babies were utterly useless creatures.

"What, are you not happy? Because all you have to do is say so. If you really want to go back, I can bring you to Limbo. Just say the words."

He fussed harder, but of course no words came out. Babies didn't talk, and they both knew it. Death cackled over him, a loud, roaring sound that died out like a passing wind as the room stilled and he found himself alone again. That was the last thing he wanted. He was enraged, infuriated, but there was no outlet for it, no way for him to express it.

Helpless, tired, incensed, miffed, and all together pissed off. He didn't know how to handle the tempest of emotions that overwhelmed him, so he did the only thing he was capable of: screamed at the top of his lungs.

The groans from the next room were a welcoming sound, at the very least. It was only fitting that everyone shared in his misery.

 **...(X)...**

 **[February 27, 2005]**

"Hey, hun?" Potter entered the kitchen, brows furrowed and wearing a frown.

"Hm?" The Weasley girl was only half-listening. She was busy attempting to feed him something that may have, at one point, remotely resembled food but now was some sort of conglomeration of disgustingness.

This was a game they played every morning. She would invent new and creative ways to try to get him to eat, and Tom would see how many things he could splatter with food. So far, he had covered himself, the chair, and an impressive amount of floor space. Not to mention a large clump that was already compacted into her hair. It was nothing to sniff at, to say the least. Quite possibly his best work yet.

"You haven't, uh, seen my wand by any chance, have you?" He pulled open the kitchen drawers one by one and rifled through them, coming up empty each time and moving on to the next one.

"Don't tell me you've lost something _again_. Harry, _I swear_." She set the spoon down with an exasperated sigh as she drew her own wand. " _Accio_ Harry's wand."

There was the faint clatter of wood bumping against wood, and Potter dropped to his knees trying to find the source of the sound.

Tom had only recently mastered the technique of crawling—far from an amazing feat for a Dark Lord, but the Potters had made such a fuss about it just the same. He himself had capitalized on the discovery, and any time they made the mistake of leaving him alone, he hid whatever belongings were within his reach. It was the lowest, most humiliating form of subversion, but at least it would whet his appetite until he was old enough to exact his revenge in a more meaningful and appealing way.

Potter followed the sound into the living room, stopping beside the couch to listen for a moment before shoving his hand underneath it.

"Aha! Got it." Potter pulled both his wand and hand out and used his knees as leverage to stand. "Wedged underneath the couch."

"What's it doing under there?"

"Dunno." Potter shrugged as he tucked it safely into his robes. "I've learned not to ask questions anymore in this family. Because magic." He looped an arm around his wife's shoulders and planted a kiss in her hair, but not before checking first to make sure there was no food. "Take care and, uh, good luck."

Potter made his way to the high chair. This was the worst part of the day. Goodbye kisses. There was nothing in the world that made Tom want to vomit more, and one time he had, much to his pleasure, all over Potter's clean work robes.

"G'bye, James. Be good for Mummy today."

Potter was already bending down for a kiss. He had to think fast. It wasn't like there was much to work with, so he grabbed the plastic bowl he'd been eating out of and whacked Potter in the head with it, splattering the remainder of the goop down his robes.

"You _can't_ be serious," he groaned.

"He's a _baby_. Relax." The Weasley girl waved her wand in a non-verbal _scourgify_ and the mess disappeared, leaving Potter's robes looking fresh and new. Insufferable know-it-all. Never knew when to mind her own business. Should've killed her when he had the chance to, before the Potter brat could interfere.

"There, all better." She reached up to readjust his tie, and once she was content that it was properly done, she pulled it gently, forcing him to bend under the strain, until their lips met. Their frequent displays of affection were disgusting. Beyond disgusting. They made the mush they called food look appetizing in comparison. "I'll see you when you get home."

Tom slumped back in his seat as Potter made his way to the Floo and the Weasley girl turned a patient eye on the kitchen and the mess he'd made. For months now, he'd done his utmost to make their life a living hell, yet they still refused to break. That just meant he'd have to try harder.

 **...(X)...**

 **[April 18, 2005]**

The room was dark and quiet, aside from the soft lilting of his nighttime melodies the ginger had insisted were good for putting babies to bed. Sure, if the goal was to bore them to sleep, then they'd be perfect.

Even so, he was still wide awake, despite the fact that he'd been confined to his crib hours ago. But he'd had the most amazing revelation. Toes! He had them! Ten to be exact, at the very tip of his feet, wriggling like tiny snakes. Elusive creatures, too. Every time he got close to grabbing one, they squirmed further away. If he ever did manage to catch one...Wait, what?

"Seems you've found yourself a new hobby." Tom immediately recognized that raspy, hollow voice and sat up in his crib as the shadows over him began to solidify into a cloaked form. "Your toes, though? For a normal human brat, sure, but I half expected you'd be more fascinated to realize you have a nose."

He had a nose?! No, no. Everything in him fought against the juvenile impulse to seek it out. Being an infant was more difficult than he imagined. As time went on, for whatever reason, it was becoming harder to separate himself from his new life. Merlin be damned if he'd let it go that easily, though.

"It'll only get harder from here, James. I _can_ call you that, can't I?" Death laughed and kept speaking without waiting for a response. "Of course I can. After all, that's who you are now, and that pitiful thing you used to call a soul had to be repaired. Couldn't put that in a human. It'd never be viable. So I patched it a bit, pulled pieces from here and there. So you're still you...mostly. Partially, at least, anyway. There wasn't much left to work with. Did I forget to mention that? Silly me."

Tom wrapped his pudgy fingers around the edge of his crib and pulled himself up onto wobbly legs with the intention of giving Death a piece of his mind. All that came out was a string of angry coos and fervent gibberish, along with, much to his dismay, a bit of drool.

"Can't talk yet, hm? Good. Then you can just shut up and listen."

One bony phalanx shot out of the robe and pressed firmly against Tom's chest—not enough to hurt but enough to knock him off-kilter. Not that it took much. He tumbled onto his back, legs kicking in the air like a bug. It took a minute before he was able to roll back onto his stomach and sit up again.

"I thought you'd like to know that you won't be alone for too much longer. I'm sure this must be torture for you, bearing the brunt of the Potters' attention all by your lonesome. Being the compassionate soul that I am, I've decided to send you someone to ease your suffering."

Tom could tell from the ensuing cackle that he wouldn't like whatever the idiot was blathering about, but what could he do? He still couldn't even shit in the toilet at this point. Taking on Death seemed a bit of a stretch...for now. One day, he assured himself. One day, this would all be worth it.

"I wouldn't get too comfy with whatever your intentions are for your future just yet," Death commented as if he could read minds. Maybe he could. Yet one more reason why he deserved to be overthrown. "Just be warned, James Sirius Potter, that change is coming soon enough."

The figure by his bedside started to waft away, form blurring into the natural shadows of his room until it was completely gone. As far as he could tell, change was a bad thing. There was no way to ward against it, for now, so he'd have to prepare for it any way he could. Whatever that bastard was planning, it wouldn't dissuade him in the least bit from accomplishing his goals.

Tom plopped onto his back and glared at the wriggling appendages at the end of his feet. Damn it all. He went back to playing with them, with less fervor this time. Not even they could dismiss the foreboding that had already begun to take hold in his mind.

 **...(X)...**

 **[September 30, 2005]**

"Mama!"

James screamed at the top of his lungs, rattling the blasted bars that kept him imprisoned in his crib. Where was that bloody wench? She was getting lazier and lazier as the days passed, it seemed. Negligence, that's what it was. Gross misconduct on her part. By now, he should have had breakfast, at the very least, but there he was marinating in his own wet and she had yet to drag herself out of bed.

"MAMA!"

He began to really pitch a fit, banging against anything he could reach. Where _was_ she? Just as he was prepared to yell again, she waddled in, one hand on her extended stomach and the other on her lower back.

"Mummy's here, baby. It's okay." Well, it was about bloody time. She paused to yawn before adding, "Mummy's just not feeling well today is all."

Not that he cared, but she didn't _look_ that great, either. She sure had let herself go. Her hair was tangled and matted as if it hadn't been washed in at least a week, and there were large, dark bruises under her eyes that popped against her pale skin. What's more, she had gotten extremely fat, which should have surprised no one, at the rate that she was eating.

"Food!" James demanded, holding his arms up to be picked up. With a little sigh, she acquiesced, shuffling into the kitchen with him perched on her hip. She strapped him into his high chair, and he kicked his feet while he waited.

They had been having the weirdest things for breakfast, disguised as perfectly normal dishes. Cereal, normally a solid choice, mixed with pretzels. Oatmeal with peanut butter in it. Every meal had become a game of Russian Roulette, and it seemed like he lost more times than he won.

"Here we are, James," Ginny said as she set the bowl down in front of him. Oatmeal again. Great. At least it looked safe this time.

"I know you're still too young to understand it, but we've had some exciting news lately, Daddy and I." Ginny pulled a chair over as she spoke, groaning as she lowered herself onto it. "I guess you've noticed Mummy's tummy getting a bit bigger, hm?"

A bit? That was the understatement of a century. She looked like she'd swallowed a Death Eater whole. If all of this had been her attempt to hide the weight gain, it had failed splendidly.

James had been so focused on guiding the spoon into his mouth that he didn't realized, at first, that she was staring at him. He nodded fervently as he scooped up another bite, focusing hard on willing his muscles to cooperate.

"Well, that's because Mummy's growing a baby in her tummy, and pretty soon, you're going to have a little brother. Isn't that exciting?"

The radiance of her smile was matched only by the depth of his scowl. She was _pregnant?_ Well, how was he expected to have guessed that one? That changed everything. Another child would only serve as a hindrance and was sure to complicate things. No, this was assuredly _not_ good news, despite her insistence.

James wasn't sure how to handle being blindsided by such a disturbing piece of information, so he overturned his bowl of oatmeal into her lap. At the very least, they would both have something to sulk over.

 **...(X)...**

 **[February 15, 2006]**

James stretched out across a row of chairs in the waiting room in St. Mungo's, tracing patterns on the ceiling that he was sure weren't really there. His tired mind saw them clear as day anyway, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do. They had been there _forever_. The wait almost made him miss Limbo. At least there he'd had the benefit of being unable to keep track of time.

The hospital, admittedly, was no place for a child. His parents had warned him of that over and over, but he'd pitched such a fit when they attempted to leave him with Grandma and Grandpa that there was no choice but to bring him. Really, there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. He had to see for himself, as soon as he could, just what sort of collateral damage he was facing so he could start to decide on what course to take to remedy the situation.

Of course, that decision had been made some fifteen hours ago. What was taking so long? Birthing a child couldn't possibly be such a long process. Women had been doing it for ages. Surely they'd had time to figure it out by now.

James arched his back and tilted his head to get a look at the nurse sitting beside him like a gargoyle. He had made the first two nurses cry, and he had been rewarded with this bitter, calloused biddy. He could almost respect that, but if she whacked his legs one more time and ordered him to sit proper like a good, little boy, so help him.

The door to the room cracked open—finally!—and a familiar head peeked out. Even though he smiled, those green eyes betrayed the truth. He was exhausted and frazzled, though judging by all the shouting, he should consider himself lucky. James had half-expected him to end up brutalized, the way Ginny carried on.

"Hey, buddy." James sat up as Harry came and knelt in front of his chair. Now this was a gesture he could get used to. "Are you ready to meet your new brother?"

"Yeah!" James crawled down from the chair and allowed Harry to take his hand. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the moment of truth.

His first impression was the tiniest bundle of cloth wrapped in Ginny's arms. It didn't _look_ particularly threatening, but looks were deceiving, and he wouldn't let his guard down that easily. It wouldn't be the first time his plans were undone by a snot-nosed infant.

Harry lifted him onto the bed next to Ginny, and he tentatively poked at the bundle. It squirmed in response to his touch and issued an annoyed squeak.

"James, meet Albus Severus," Ginny whispered, readjusting the baby so he could get a better look.

It wasn't the sky-blue, unfocused eyes that made his blood run cold; it was what he recognized in them. A raspy cackle echoed in his mind, one only he seemed to be able to hear, confirming his suspicions.

This was a soul he knew well.

 _Albus Dumbledore._

 **Author's Note:** This is dedicated to the lovely Xanda, who wanted a Harry/Tom in some sort of relationship (not necessarily romantic). It's not a pairing I generally write, so hopefully this lives up to your expectations. :) This will be a three-shot.

 **Prompts:**

\- Quidditch Pitch: "Never underestimate the power of human stupidity." ~ Robert A. Heinlein


	2. The Lion

**[March 22, 2006]**

It should've been easy—as easy as framing that oaf of a half-giant for murder. Yet, here he was, a month later and still no closer to dispensing that nuisance. According to the Potters, the baby was normal in his annoyances and extremely fragile, so James was to be careful—a phrase they enjoyed repeating, as if he hadn't heard the first dozen times. But he was rather counting on that fragility. Stomp out the weed before it could grow to choke the life out of the flower. That's how it went, right?

Thus far, the Potters had been wise to never leave them alone together. But the Potters weren't here now. They were tucked away in their bed, sleeping off their exhaustion.

James pushed the door to the nursery open, taking care not to make any noise. It had to be tonight. It was perfect. The foolish wizard was but a baby—no magic, no coordination, no defenses. It would look just like an accident. After all, from what he knew, babies were occasionally prone to dying in their sleep for no reason at all, the feeble things they were. It would all be quite tragic and, if he was lucky, put the Potters off of having any more children.

He grabbed a pillow off the rocker in passing. He had assumed that Albus would be passed out at this hour like any normal infant, but James wasn't surprised, either, when he found him wide awake and staring at the ceiling. Albus always had been rather a thorn in his side as far as his schemes went.

James was beginning to realize there was a slight problem with his plan. The crib bars extended at least a foot over his head. Damn his tiny body. With a bit of effort, he dragged the footstool over and climbed up. The maneuvering would take a bit of trial and error, but it could work.

Albus stared up at him wide-eyed and unafraid. He always was a naïve fool.

"It's nothing personal," James whispered as he raised the pillow over the edge of the crib. "It's just that I can't have you getting in my way. Not this time."

He only had a chance to get the pillow halfway into the crib before Albus let out a sudden loud wail. James started, instinctively taking a step backwards, and his foot found the edge of the stool. He teetered there for a few seconds, fighting for his balance, but eventually gravity won and he crashed to the ground.

The light in the hallway snapped on, and tired feet dragged their way to the room. James had just enough time to put the footstool back in its place before the door swung open, blinding him in a wave of yellow before the switch was clicked on and the whole room lit up.

"James? What are you doing in here?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn as he knelt down to meet his son at eye level.

"Baby crying," James said, doing his best to put on what he assumed was an innocent-looking toddler expression as he pointed a pudgy finger towards the crib.

"You came in to check on Albus? Well, aren't you a good big brother."

Harry smiled as he placed a hand on James' head and ruffled his hair. Merlin, how he hated that gesture. Nothing said "good job" like a sore scalp, apparently. But what was that old adage? Don't bite the hand that feeds you? Whether he liked it or not, he still needed the Potters, and if he rid himself of them too early, he risked being sent to any number of worse situations. Better the enemy you know, they say. So he stuck his finger in his mouth and nodded his head fervently at his father, as was expected.

As Harry lifted Albus from the crib, cradling him against his chest and cooing disgusting assurances in his ear, James realized it would be perhaps harder than he had assumed to get rid of his sibling, even if he _was_ just an infant. It appeared the bloody wizard refused to die.

 **...(X)...**

 **[August 8, 2006]**

"There's my grandbabies!"

James ducked out of the way and hid behind Harry's robes, diverting the ginger's attention to Albus, who Ginny proffered up eagerly, the traitor she was. He almost felt what might equate to sympathy as the baby was smothered by the overbearing old hag. Almost. On the other hand, it served him right.

"And is that little James I see peeking around his father's leg? My, you seem to grow every time I see you." She set Albus on her hip with all the care of a bag of flour, and he grunted as he accepted his fate. "Come in, come in. You're the first to arrive, but I dare say your brothers will be here in short order, if they know what's good for them."

Family get-togethers were the worst. Jammed into a rickety, old house with more Weasleys than it should be legal to have in one place. It was nearly enough to make one crave the hospitality of Azkaban.

James had done everything he could to try to get out of it—tantrums, pouting, screaming. He'd even broken the lamp in the living room during a fit, which only earned him a spanking. He still hadn't forgiven Ginny for that one. It went on the ever-growing list of insults and slights he'd be sure to pay them back for one day.

Though they threatened to stay home if he couldn't behave, James had no such luck. Instead, he found himself dumped in a corner of the living room with Albus at his side, sucking contentedly on a bottle.

"Are you boys playing nice over here?" Ginny asked as she squatted beside them.

"Mm-hmm. Flying," James said as he held up one of his Quidditch figures. He'd never much cared for the game in his previous life, but he was beginning to see the merits of it. The idea of being able to bludgeon an opposing player to death and have it be perfectly socially acceptable had its own appeal.

"That's good. Just remember to share."

Albus reached for a Bulgarian player, and James resisted the urge to slap his brother's hand away. Instead, he just glared at him as Ginny walked away to rejoin the adults in the kitchen. Albus plucked the bottle from his mouth and offered it up like it was a fair trade, but he stuck it back in his mouth as James sneered and turned away.

"I hope you choke," James muttered under his breath, just loud enough so only the two of them could hear.

There was a commotion in the kitchen, and it didn't take long to figure out why, as the familiar discord of arguing was loud enough to wake the dead.

"You forgot it, didn't you, Ron? After I reminded you I don't know how many times!"

"I said I was sorry! Look, it's no big deal. I'll just—"

"What do you _mean_ it's no big deal? No, of course it's not to you, because _you're the one who forgot._ Honestly, Ron. If you can't even remember simple things like that, how can I trust you not to forget our child?"

"Blimey, 'Mione, it's a casserole, not a baby. I'll just Floo back and grab it. No harm done."

The discussion went on, but James did his best to tune it out for fear that it would drive his already dwindling IQ even lower. The pregnant Mudblood had been compared to a Hungarian Horntail plenty of times over the past several months, and there were certainly similarities, but he'd still take his chances with the dragon over her any day.

The door slammed open and shut several more times as a steady stream of ginger trash entered the house. They were like a bloody plague, each one progressively worse than the last.

The door opened again, and James held his breath, wondering what new torture he would be forced to suffer through. Almost immediately, there was wild stomping through the kitchen, and then a shrill voice nagged, "Edward Lupin! Where are your manners?"

"Sorry, Gran," was the sheepish reply. "Afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ginny. Can I go and play now? _Please_?"

Finally, someone interesting. While the Weasleys were, by and large, a waste of space, Teddy's metamorphmagus powers were intriguing. Surely there'd be a way to exploit them in the future. Replicate them, maybe, even. The prospects alone made it worth putting up with him.

James shoved his toys aside, making sure to stash them somewhere out of Albus' reach, and ran into the kitchen. As soon as he noticed, Teddy's hair turned a vibrant blue, and he grinned, revealing a hole where his front tooth had been only a few weeks ago.

"C'mon, Jamie! Let's go play," Teddy said, grabbing James' hand and nearly pulling his arm out of its socket as he dragged the boy outside.

The fresh air was a welcome change, and as infuriating as it was, James couldn't hold back a delighted shriek as they plunged into the tall grass. There was just something about the way it tickled his calves and face and transformed Teddy into little more than a disembodied laugh running somewhere alongside him.

By the time James emerged on the other side of the tall grass, Teddy had already claimed a spot at the top of the uppermost boulder of the rock formation that had been dubbed "the fort" by the Potter-Weasleys. James hadn't had a say in the name. If he had, it would certainly have sounded more interesting and more ominous, to say the least.

"Here, lemme help," Teddy said as James struggled up the rocks. The older boy grabbed his hands, and eventually the back of his clothes, as he heaved him up to take a seat beside him.

From that vantage point, they could see over the tall grass, straight to the burrow, which had begun belching out shrieking red-headed children at an alarming rate.

"Looks like they'll be here soon, but we got here first today, so it's _ours_. That means we have to defend it," Teddy said as he stretched over the side of the rock. He sat back up holding two large sticks. "We'll fight together, you and I. I'll be Arthur."

"Arfur?" James asked, accepting the stick that Teddy held out for him. He found the childish games they played to be largely a waste of time. But, then again, he was technically only two, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

"Not Grandpa Arthur. I mean King Arthur of the Roundtable, and you can be one of my knights. Hold on. We gotta do this right." Teddy picked up the stick and tapped either side of James' shoulders lightly with one end of it. "I name you Sir James the Loyal. Now, let's protect this fort against the intruders!"

Teddy raised his stick over his head as if to say charge—not that they were actually going anywhere. They were really just sitting and swinging blindly, every now and then colliding with one of the sticks wielded, equally haphazardly, by the gingers below. It was a stupid game, James had to admit, but it kept the toddler part of him entertained long enough to prevent him from doing more childish things like sucking his thumb—an action which he'd recently come to love and loathe in equal measure.

For the first time, James wondered if his unfortunate situation wasn't as unfortunate as he originally assumed. After all, the Potter name still carried a hefty amount of sway in the Wizarding world. Besides that, there was a whole brood of not-very-smart children who would do just about _anything_ for their dear cousin James.

This second chance just might work out after all.

 **...(X)...**

 **[April 12, 2007]**

James blinked against the darkness, trying to decide whether he was still dreaming. No, something had definitely woken him. But what?

As he sat up in bed, he could've sworn he heard the flutter of fabric and glimpsed a figure disappearing through the open door—a door that he was certain had been closed when he went to bed.

He rubbed his eyes as he threw the covers off and stepped into the hallway. The house was quiet save for his own footsteps. Had he imagined it all? Must have, he concluded with a yawn.

Then, he heard the laughter. It was low at first, like a rumble of thunder in the distance, but unmistakable just the same. Death had come again, and that bastard always meant bad news.

James slipped down the hallway as quietly as he could—not that toddlers were known for being particularly stealthy—and entered Albus' room. He surveyed the hall one last time before carefully closing the door behind him.

Albus was standing in his crib, sucking on his dummy every now and then and staring at him. No, not at him. Upon closer inspection, James realized the shadows in the room had started to move, crossing the ceiling and walls in a slow waltz.

He backed away from the door and into the middle of the room just in time for the darkness to coalesce into a wispy, cloaked figure.

"You!" James said. He fished through his mind for a proper insult to describe his displeasure but came up short. Maybe there were no words for it.

"Ah, little James Potter. I see you're able to speak now and eloquent as ever." Death looked past him—perhaps through him—or that's what James assumed by the way the cloak tilted slightly to the left. "And there's little Albus. I sincerely wish I could take credit for that stroke of brilliance, but, honestly, it was just a happy coincidence. Still, couldn't have planned it better if I tried."

"What is it you want?" James clenched his fists and counted to three. No sense in losing his temper. There was no way he was about to fight Death without his magic and wand, at the very least. Not that he didn't deserve a good fist to the face.

"Straight to the point. I can respect that. Or I could, if you were even remotely a respectable person. I came here to deliver a warning. In five months' time, you can expect a new arrival.

"A new...arrival?"

What exactly was he on about? What could possibly happen in five months? James racked his brain for anything out of the ordinary recently. If Death was involved, it would be something huge, and last time he'd reared his ugly head...

"You can't mean...You wouldn't. Not again."

Come to think of it, the red-head _had_ been more insufferable lately. And the bags under her eyes had grown threefold. And she ate enough for a whole Quidditch team all on her own. And just the other day she'd burst out crying about how big he was getting. He'd originally assumed she was just losing her mind, but maybe...

A baritone wheeze echoed around the room, ending in a rolling rumble. It took a moment for him to realize Death was laughing.

"A bit slower than I expected, James. It seems rebirth has perhaps dulled your wits some. Albus, on the other hand, is sharp as ever. Understood right away."

"What does he know? He can barely even talk."

"Be that as it may, I've come to say there will be one more. Just one. Cross my heart and hope to...Well, you get the gist."

"Why?" said...someone.

It took a moment for James to register where the voice came from. It wasn't one he recognized. After all, until now, Albus had merely jabbered, punctuated by the occasional utterance that sounded almost word-like. But there it was, clear as day, without so much as a hint of the babyish quality that should have been there. Just what else had the master manipulator been hiding?

"Nice of you to join the conversation, Albus, but I can't tell you why just yet. Well, I suppose that's a bit disingenuous. I _could_ tell you, but I do so hate repeating myself, so it can wait until the three of you are here. I'm sure you understand."

"But who—"

"Don't." Death held out his hand, the sleeve of his robe slipping back to reveal bone phalanges that gleamed in the moonlight that was filtering in through the window. "I can't believe you were really about to ask, as if I'd ever tell you. Not hardly. Come now, what would be the fun in that?"

The cloaked figure began to fade from view. Slowly at first, where James hardly even noticed, but then the shadows started slithering away from him and settling in the recesses of the room where they belonged.

"I'm sure you're just _dying_ to know, but soon enough. Only five more months." The voice itself sounded hollow and without substance as the last wisps of him dissipated.

So in five months there would be another nuisance running around—and he had yet to figure out how to deal with the first one. Just great.

"Who do you think..." James started, turning to face the crib. But Albus already had his back to him, staring at the moon through the slits in the blinds. He wasn't paying attention, and odds were he didn't have any idea, either, so this conversation was pointless.

With as little noise as he could manage, James snuck back to his room and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He could spend all the time he wanted trying to guess who would make an appearance, but it would do him no good. He was learning how to play the game. Slowly, but still.

So he couldn't kill his siblings. The realization had been nagging him for quite some time, but James was only just conceding the point. That just meant he had to find a suitable alternative.

 **...(X)...**

 **[July 3, 2007]**

James hated sand. More, even, than he hated Muggles and Mudbloods. He'd never given it much thought before, but now that the weather was "nice" and the red-head had grown fat and lazy, they were always at the park, surrounded by it. They left the park with it, too, clinging to exposed surfaces, buried in unmentionable and unpleasant orifices.

Albus was next to him, building up a lopsided, barely standing sand lump. James assumed it was supposed to be a castle, but no stretch of the imagination could make that an apt comparison. Three more minutes, James decided. In three more minutes, for the umpteenth time, he'd knock it down. Every time, Albus had no reaction besides to scoop the dirt back together and set out to repair it. Soon, though. James was soon that any time now he'd get a rise out of him.

"Look, the _babies_ are back, and they brought us stuff to play with."

James froze in the middle of sculpting his dragon. Now that was one voice he'd hoped to avoid today. Luck wasn't exactly on his side, not that that was at all surprising.

James looked up as the six-year-old and his twin sister approached. The pair were filthy Muggles who were never taught their place in the world, and James would be more than happy to teach them—as soon as he got his magic, of course. Until then, he was little more than a small obstacle in the way of their much bigger, and quite hard, fists.

"Hey, I want that shovel," the girl said, pointing at what he had in his hand. Elizabeth Ann Morgan was her name. James had memorized it so he'd have no trouble finding her later in life—and rest assured, he _would_ find her again.

"Shove off. I'm using it," he mumbled, returning to his work.

"Maybe you didn't hear my sister." John Franklin Morgan. James reminded himself of the name, lest he forget it, as the boy sank his foot into the sand sculpture and kicked it at James. Bloody sand didn't need any help getting everywhere. "Give it."

James knew how this ended. The same as it always did. He wasn't in the mood today, not with his scalp itching with sand and it already caking just about every inch of him. Without further argument, he handed over his shovel and pail, which they also demanded. He watched them, arms crossed and seething, walk to the other end of the sandbox, all the while running scenarios in his mind to determine what would be the most effective way to exact his revenge.

He was dragged from his thoughts by Albus plopping down beside him, kicking up a cloud of dust. When their eyes met, James recognized a twinkle in Albus' eyes that he'd seen in others' but never the toddler. The boy was up to something.

Albus pointed, and James followed his finger to John and Elizabeth. They were playing, like usual. With _his_ things. Also like usual. What exactly was he supposed to be looking at?

As he thought it, John let out a yelp and fell backwards in the sand. Elizabeth laughed at her brother, but only for a moment. Then, chaos broke out. The bucket leapt from the ground and secured itself over Elizabeth's head like a monster devouring its prey, and no amount of tugging would dislodge it. The shovel took flight like a bird and began to peck at John's head and arms.

They screamed at first, then cried, then begged for help. It was delightful, every bit of it, and, sand be damned, James couldn't help falling over from laughter. Next to him, Albus was giggling and slapping his legs.

After a few minutes, the twins managed to escape the deranged toys and ran off to who cared where. Away. That was the important part. James stood and retrieved the toys, and he and Albus went back to quietly playing in the sand.

Fifteen minutes this time, James thought to himself. Albus would have fifteen minutes before he destroyed whatever it was he called the mess he was making. After all, as much as James hated to admit it, Albus had done him a favor, and that deserved a reward of sorts, he supposed. Still, he wouldn't forgive that bastard for awakening his magic first.

 **...(X)...**

 **[September 30, 2007]**

Harry was wearing ruts in the carpet. He'd been pacing that same four yards in front of the door for an hour now, ever since he was thrown out of the room. For his safety, or so the Weasley matron had said, after Ginny had drawn her wand with every intention of hexing him to oblivion. Shame that she couldn't follow through on that, really. Would have saved James so much time and effort.

As it was, he was stuck in the hallway with Albus, passing the time with some new toys that were no doubt intended to be some form of bribe.

Harry stopped pacing just for a second as a fresh wave of screams flooded the house. After all these years, one would imagine he'd have become acquainted with a feeling of helplessness, but the way he twitched implied he was only just becoming aware of his own uselessness.

For the life of him, James couldn't imagine why, after having done this twice previously, the red-head would decide to forgo all the advances made in the Wizarding world in favor of having a child at home. It was lunacy. He'd tortured people who made less noise, for Merlin's sake.

The screaming, grunting, crying, and outright cursing—some of which, he had to admit, were quite inventive—carried on for some time. Now and then, Harry would cease pacing long enough to glance between the door and him and Albus. James could only imagine Harry was questioning the sorts of things he was exposing his sons to. If only he had any idea.

After what seemed like an eternity, there was a lull, and three pairs of eyes regarded the door. There was a shrill wail, and a minute later, the door cracked open and a graying head appeared.

"They're both fine, dear, if you want to go right on in."

Harry disappeared through the doorway, and James exchanged a fleeting glance with Albus. It was the moment of truth. Would they even recognize this one at all? And what if they did? It's not like it would change anything. James couldn't think of any soul he'd be particularly relieved to see.

"Hey, boys." James looked up as Harry walked back through the doorway with a small bundle in his arms. He was grinning broadly, the naive fool. "Are you ready to meet your sister?"

Wait, sister? That meant...it was a _girl?_ As if Albus wasn't bad enough. Out of the corner of his eye, James studied Albus' reaction. He appeared calm just the same, but there was no doubt the news was surprising to him, as well.

Harry knelt before them and presented a chubby, slightly off-colored face. It looked...Well, disappointing, quite frankly. She'd barely made an effort to cry and was already fast asleep, as if she couldn't care less about her new surroundings. Most importantly, she didn't look familiar. James racked his brain, but he drew a blank. Maybe Death made a mistake. He was several millennia past senile, so it wasn't inconceivable.

"Her name's Lily Luna," Harry said.

James couldn't have cared less, but Albus was beside him clapping dutifully like a good little stooge, so he smiled and said, "Pretty baby." That was good enough, apparently, since Harry whisked her away back into the bedroom.

Albus suddenly went quiet, and James recognized the look on his face. It wasn't good. His mind had wandered off somewhere his body couldn't follow, and James had learned long ago that that always meant trouble, particularly for him.

"You recognized her?" James whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot.

Albus nodded slowly. He fumbled through a few syllables, producing little more than an awkward mishmash of sound. Even for a supposed "great wizard"—according to whose standards, he wasn't sure—there were still sounds Albus had trouble with, and James did so like to watch him struggle.

But he finally gave up and grabbed a couple of blocks and spelled out G-E-L. Pause, shuffle through the stack to find the right ones, then L-E-R-T.

Gellert.

Was that supposed to mean something? It sounded familiar somehow, but James couldn't place where he had heard it before. Clearly wasn't anything particularly important, certainly nothing he had considered a threat or deemed noteworthy in his past life. That was a relief, at least.

Still, he couldn't dismiss it quite that easily. Albus appeared unnerved by the discovery, and if it was unsettling for him, then James resolved not to take the news lightly. Whoever they were, he was determined they wouldn't stand in his way.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry the updates take so long. I've got a lot going on right now. As always, thanks for the reviews and the support! I appreciate it so much.


	3. The Phoenix

**[November 30, 2007]**

"No! I. Don't. Wanna." James punctuated each word with a stamp of his foot, balling his hands into fists and hitting the floor with as much force as he could muster. The effect was dulled slightly by the carpeting, but the point must have still gotten across because Harry lifted his glasses and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"Don't you think you're a bit old for this? Big boys don't have tantrums," Harry said, adjusting his glasses as he knelt down so they were on the same level.

"But it's _my_ room," James whined, dropping to the floor with his legs and arms both crossed.

"Well, where do you suggest Albus sleeps?"

"In the dog house."

It was a phrase Ginny used now and then, any time Harry was in trouble—which was fairly often. Harry didn't seem to see the irony, but behind him, Albus smiled.

"We don't _have_ a dog, James."

"We get dog?" Albus asked, clapping his hands together furiously.

"What?" Harry turned around, the expression on his face implying he'd forgotten there was another child present. When his gaze landed on Albus, a light seemed to go off in his mind. James wondered how long that one had been out. "No, we're not getting a dog. And your brother's not sleeping outside," he added, turning back to James.

"But why does Lily need her own room? Can't she sleep with you?"

"I know she's just a baby, but babies take up a lot of space. Besides, this is just temporary."

Temporary or not, James had no intention of spending even a single night sharing a room with _him_. Of all the things he'd endured so far, that was quite possibly the ultimate insult.

"Get kitty?" Albus asked, tugging on Harry's robes to get his attention.

"No, Al, no kitty." Harry wrenched his robes out of Albus' clutches and turned him around gently, nudging him back towards the pile of toys he had been playing contentedly with moments before. "Listen." Harry reached for him, but James pulled away and turned his back to his father. "C'mon, Jamie. You've had this room for three years all to yourself. Don't you think it's time to share?"

"No! Don't wanna share!"

The cold shoulder clearly wasn't working, so James threw himself on his back and flailed his limbs, screaming "no" repeatedly at the top of his lungs. Surely Harry would have no choice but to back down after this display. It had always worked before, as big of a pushover as he was.

"James..."

"Mouse?" Albus asked, having made his way back to their father's side.

"Uh-uh, definitely not any sort of rat. I'll explain when you get older." Harry picked Albus up and returned him to his pile of toys with a pat to the head and a stern, "No pets. Merlin knows three kids and Kreacher is more than enough."

Crossing the room in two quick strides, Harry managed to catch James mid-flail and scooped him into a hug. No matter how he struggled—and boy did he struggle—James couldn't free himself and eventually stopped squirming. It wasn't over, not by a long shot, but his first concern was with freeing himself.

Harry set him down on his feet and grabbed James' shoulders, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Look, Jamie, we've put in a request for a permit to expand, but it takes time. Until that comes through, we have to make due with the rooms we have, which means you and Albus need to share. Besides, I'm counting on you to look after your little brother. You can do that for me, can't you?"

"I guess," James muttered.

He looked at his feet, digging his toe into the carpet. He stared at the ceiling and counted the number of marks in the paint. He watched as some birds flew past the window, carefree and unfettered, the lucky bastards. In short, he took care to look anywhere but the green eyes that taunted him. Love. That's what Albus called the flicker of light, the intensity, the seriousness, the desperation. James preferred to think of it as nauseating and did his best to avoid the reminder.

"Good boy. You won't regret it."

Really? Because he was already regretting it. Dreading it, even. The moment Harry left the room, James met Albus' gaze and said, "Don't. Ever. Sleep."

Albus had the gall to chuckle, and a fire flared in James' cheeks. He had no retort for that. They both knew the truth; for the moment, James' hands were tied.

 **...(X)...**

 **[February 15, 2008]**

"Look, here it comes!" Teddy tugged on his sleeve and pointed, not that James could miss the brightly colored and currently lit cake as it passed by. Grandma Weasley had made it herself, and all the magic in the world couldn't make her a decent decorator, as it turned out.

"Is everybody ready to sing?" Ginny asked as she set the cake down in front of Albus. He stuck a finger in it and managed to successfully get a chunk of frosting to his mouth before anyone noticed, though he got his hand slapped when he went back a second time.

They all sang an off-key version of "Happy Birthday," though James merely mouthed the words. No one was the wiser. He didn't care for festivities, unless he got presents out of it. He didn't care much for singing, either, or having the family all gathered together, but he did like cake. Especially the frosting. Still, it seemed like an awful lot of hassle just for that.

"Make a wish and blow out the candles," Harry said as the singing wrapped up, and Albus leaned dangerously close to the cake.

James shouldn't. He knew that. But when had that ever stopped him? It was far too good to pass up the opportunity. So he stumbled as if someone had pushed him from behind and knocked against the chair Albus was kneeling in, pitching the two-year-old forward and driving his face into the cake.

The children roared with laughter, and even Grandpa Weasley chuckled, though his grin vanished under Grandma Weasley's fierce scrutiny. Ginny, face bright enough to match her hair, grabbed James' wrist.

"It was a _accident_ ," James insisted between giggles. For some reason, she didn't seem all that convinced.

"This is Albus' big day, and he was very well-behaved at your party, so try not to cause any more trouble or so help me, James Sirius Potter, you _will_ regret it. Understood?"

"Yes, Mum," James said sheepishly. It took all the effort he could muster to put up a front and keep from collapsing on the ground in a fit of laughter. Even if he had been demoted to the lowest echelon on the outskirts of the group, it was worth it.

The hairs began to stand up on the back of his neck, and James became aware that he was being scrutinized by a pair of brown eyes.

"What?" James asked, turning to Lily, who was next to him in her high chair. He never would have imagined it possible, but the way she was sucking her dummy—sporadically, intentionally—was almost threatening. "It was funny. Besides, he deserved it."

Why was he even bothering trying to justify himself to a baby? Like her opinion mattered in the least bit. She seemed unfazed by his justification, anyway. A moment later, without warning and with a speed he never would have guessed possible, she hurled her rattle at him, catching James squarely in the forehead with such force that he instinctually stepped back.

His vision flashed white as pain tore through his skull. It took a few minutes for him to register what happened. Had she just...Did she really...How _dare_ she? Had it left a mark? His hand shot up to his forehead and came away clean. No blood, but Merlin, there was a bump and probably a mark.

"Moooom!" he whined, scowling at Lily as she smiled broadly. "Lily threw her toy at me!"

"She didn't mean it, James. She's just a baby," Ginny said, not once pausing from cutting and handing out cake to address his concern.

Didn't mean it his ass. James had called it from the very start: having siblings was a hassle.

"I bet this is why you ended up locked in a tower," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

 **...(X)...**

 **[May 12, 2008]**

"James? Wake up."

Someone was shaking him. His body was still numb from sleep, but his head snapped back and forth with the motion. James flailed an arm blindly, connected with something that made an _oompf_ , and decided that was good enough as he rolled over and sank back into his pillow. Clearly, he was wrong.

"Get up, James."

The shaking was more furious this time, harder to ignore, and no amount of random flailing would discourage it.

"Wha—?"

James peeled open one eye. He couldn't make out much in the darkness, but there was a small face over his own, staring at him.

"Go back to bed, Albus," James grunted, shoving him off the bed.

"He's back."

"Who—"

It wasn't even necessary to finish the thought; James knew exactly whom Albus was referring to. He was suddenly wide awake, throwing off his covers as he pushed his brother out of the way. His feet hitting the cold wooden floor was enough to jolt him awake.

"Lily's room?" he asked the unnecessary question.

"Mm-hmm."

James slipped into the hallway, taking care not to make any sound. He motioned for Albus, who was trailing at his elbow, to do the same. Every now and then the wood groaned under their weight, but luckily, that wasn't enough to wake the Potters. Not since having Lily, who had a set of lungs like a banshee and enjoyed exercising them at random hours of the night.

They stopped just outside Lily's door. Everything in the hallway looked normal, but there he was: a hooded figure clutching a scythe and leaning against the crib. The hood raised and turned towards them as they entered.

"Ah, boys. I was wondering when you'd be joining us. Lily and I were just having a lovely chat."

"She can't even talk yet," James said as he closed the door.

"Yes, I dare say that's what was so satisfying about it." Death paused and shifted his scythe to the other shoulder like it was a nuisance, just dead weight to be toted around. It was no wand, but James had to admit it _did_ have a nice ominous feel to it. Maybe he should get a scythe one day. Godric Gryffindor had a sword, after all, and was he not better than that foolhardy lion?

He was distracted by the _clack_ of bone on wood as Death circled them slowly. The scythe rasped along the ground in a steady growl as it was dragged behind him.

"Look at you all. One big, happy family. It just warms my heart to see you getting on."

The sarcasm oozed out of each word, and he moved as he spoke like a cat toying with its prey.

"Do you really, you know, have one?" Albus asked.

"What?" Death ceased pacing and half-turned towards Albus. James imagined him frowning beneath his hood, but the idea of an animated skeleton gave him the shivers, so he brushed the thought aside.

"A heart, I mean," Albus clarified.

Another lapse of silence. Probably debating whether someone who had lived twice could be so foolish. Sadly, the answer was yes, and as far as James could tell, the question was sincere, born from naïve curiosity. Death must have arrived at the same conclusion, because he grunted, uttered a curt, "No," and resumed his pacing.

"When we last met, you asked me why. It's simple, really. You challenged me. Hubris is never a flattering trait to have, especially given your mortality and lack of actual magical prowess." He paused, resting his scythe on his shoulder, and shrugged. "I suppose I should be used to it by now; humans are horribly feeble, predictable creatures. But still, I _had_ hoped for more from you three in particular."

"Why us?"

Albus voiced what everyone was thinking. The toddler was stroking his chin thoughtfully, and for a moment, James was reminded of the old professor-turned-headmaster he had come to loathe. Merlin, he still couldn't stand him.

It was a valid enough question, at least. It wasn't like they had much in common. Sure, they had all been powerful wizards once, in a past life, but that wasn't exactly the case anymore, was it? They were neither all wizards nor particularly powerful at this point.

Death crossed his arms, sleeves falling back and exposing bleached white arm bones that looked like ghosts in the darkness. He tilted his scythe, letting it rest in the crook of his elbow.

"Look at your faces. Utter confusion." He tsked before continuing, "I suppose I'll have to spell it out, then. I fashioned three items with the promise that whomsoever possessed all three would become the Master of Death. Bit of a joke on my part; a bit presumptuous on yours. See, one of you sought power and managed to get one Hallow; the second sought immortality and found two; and the last had all three in his possession at some point in time, seeking a cure for death."

He paused for what James assumed was dramatic effect. Merlin, he was both long-winded and annoying, two traits that certainly didn't compliment each other. James shared a glance with Albus. He must not have liked where the conversation was headed because his brow was furrowed and his eyes were dark. Lily was standing, clutching the rails of her crib. Every now and then her dummy squeaked as she sucked on it.

"What you didn't know, of course, is that it's little more than a glorified title. It doesn't confer any special powers, besides what the Hallows themselves allow, I suppose. So, really, everything you sacrificed, all your struggles...Well, I suppose they were all in vain, weren't they? And through it all, you thought you could get the upper hand on me."

Death laughed, just a chuckle at first, but it gradually amplified until it roared around them. The shadows writhed and danced as if they were in on the joke.

"So now I've taken away what it was you wanted so much in your past life. James, your bid for immortality; Albus, your reunion with your family; and Lily, your power. I do hope it was all worth it." He laughed again, dragging his feet as he crossed the room and coming to a full stop before the door. "Oh, and you should know. You can't tell anyone any of this. I mean, you could try if you wanted, but you're physically unable to mention who you used to be. Your souls, however, could still be recognized. There's no helping that."

No one said anything as he wrapped a hand around the knob, and in the silence, the door clicking open sounded like an explosion. He stopped with the door still partially closed and turned back to add, "Big things are coming. Bigger than a simple dark wizard. I admit, I'm curious to see what exactly you'll make with this life."

Like always, he faded away into the night as if he was never there, but the tightening in James' stomach belied otherwise. What was this feeling? It was something that he couldn't remember, something that turned his skin clammy, his mouth dry, and made his whole body rigid. One day, he would die. Old age was never a guarantee, and without the protections of the horcruxes, it was an inevitability. One day...

No. James shook his head to dispel the worries. That's all they were, silly ruminations of his sleep-deprived brain. There was plenty of time to find an alternative. Flamel had. There was more than one road to immortality.

"What did he mean about taking your powers?" Albus asked, frowning as he faced the crib. If Lily had an answer, she had no way to give it. Instead, she sucked on her dummy in a rhythm— _suck, pause, suck, suck, pause._

This changed everything, or that was his initial reaction. But that wasn't true, was it? As far as this life, as far as James Potter was concerned, this changed nothing. Regardless of his motives, Death had still provided him a second chance, and James had no intention of wasting it.

 **...(X)...**

 **[September 1, 2009]**

"James!"

The voice boomed up the stairs, but James pretended not to hear. It was only the second call. By the third, Dad would come upstairs to peek in at him. James would, of course, pretend to have fallen asleep while playing with his toys, and Dad would close the bedroom door to let him "nap," like always. That guaranteed him at least an hour of undisturbed play time.

"James?"

Third call. He stretched out beside his toys, rested his head on one arm, and closed his eyes, steadying his breathing as if he were sleeping.

Footsteps in the hallway, pausing at his door. The protest of the hinges as it swung open. Any minute now, the sounds would happen again in reverse, and he'd be free to play. He waited. No, something was wrong. There were more footsteps this time, approaching instead of receding. Then, someone was shaking him.

"C'mon, James. Time to get up."

That was Dad's voice, but it was all _wrong_. They had a routine down. Sure, he had always been a rather dimwitted wizard, but certainly he could remember that much.

"'M sleepin'," James grumbled, rolling away from the disturbance, assuming that surely Dad would be able to take a hint. He should've known better.

"Sorry, buddy, not this time. There's someone here I want you to meet."

With a flick of his wand, Dad sent all the toys back to their places, tucked away neatly on the shelves. James had no choice but to pick himself off the floor and march downstairs to see what new torture they had devised for him.

Albus was at the foot of the stairs by the time they got there, and Lily was resting on Mum's hip. The whole family had come out. But for what?

Then James noticed the extra set of eyes—three sizes too big for the pointy-eared head they were housed in. The house-elf was shorter than him and clearly middle-aged, standing beside Mum with a briefcase in his hand and wearing a dull expression.

"We got a new house-elf?" James asked, scrutinizing the thing. About time they replaced the old piranha. Good riddance. This one was scrawny, perhaps disconcertingly so. Would he even be able to _do_ housework? What good was a house-elf that couldn't clean? Hell, it was even in their name.

"Er, no, James." Harry chuckled nervously and shot the house-elf an apologetic grin. "This is Mister Elway. He's going to be your tutor."

Dad delivered the news as if it were a good thing. Obviously, James had misunderstood.

"My...what?"

"He's going to teach you for primary, honey," Mum explained, crouching down and resting a hand on his shoulder. On her hip, Lily grinned and giggled, and James scowled at her. "You'll learn to read and write and do maths. All the things you need before you can go to Hogwarts. That's exciting, right?"

Merlin's beard, they actually _believed_ this was a good idea. Oh, how far the Wizarding world had fallen. He'd fix it...one day.

"But, Mum," James whined, leaning in closer to whisper the next part. "He's a house-elf."

"Yes, he is."

James waited for more, but Mum just looked at him expectantly. She didn't get it. Bloody thick woman.

"I can't learn from a house-elf. Isn't he supposed to be cleaning or something?"

"Don't be rude, James." Dad was using his stern voice, the one that implied he should tread lightly. "Mister Elway is a free elf, and he comes highly recommended. This'll be good for you. Besides," Dad lowered his voice as he knelt on James' other side, "if you do well with your studies, you can start learning magic." He winked as he ruffled James' hair.

"Harry!" Mum's voice was shrill, and Dad glanced up as guiltily as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. James took the opportunity to flatten his hair back into place.

"Just little spells, dear, I promise. Harmless, really. I swear."

"Promise?" James asked, eying the house-elf. The things he did for magic. Some days, he wondered if it was worth it, but no, everything would surely pay off in the end.

"Of course. You have my word."

"Mmkay. I s'pose."

James could tolerate the house-elf if it got a wand in his hand. Hell, he'd done worse in the name of power. How hard could it possibly be?

 **...(X)...**

 **[October 13, 2010]**

...carry the one. That's 242. Or was it 232? James shrugged and put down the first answer, moving on to the next question. He had never been particularly good at math, and he was still less than thrilled by the prospect this time around, too. It wasn't even worth his putting effort into.

"Question four's wrong," someone said over his shoulder. James jumped at the sudden voice, nearly spilling his ink all over the parchment, but he managed to steady it just in time. What genius had decided children should write with feather and ink anyway? In that, at least, Muggles had done something right for a change, even if that shriveled up, old, pitiful excuse for an elf refused to let him use a pen.

"So what?" James snapped as Albus wiped an apple on his shirt and took a large bite of it, crunching loudly as he chewed.

"Just thought you might want to know." Albus shrugged and took a seat at the kitchen table in the chair to James' right.

James scanned the paper. Eight...six...five...ah, four. It was, indeed, wrong. What an insufferable know-it-all.

"I did it on purpose," James said, shuffling his papers to bury the half-finished maths work. "Don't want them thinking I'm _too_ smart, after all."

"I doubt you have to worry about _that_ ," Lily said in passing as she entered the kitchen. She grabbed the chair to his left and hefted herself onto it, settling onto her knees so she could see over the table. It was odd listening to her speak without the words being tainted by her three-year-old slur. Odd, but not unexpected, as they all did it when they were alone and had no reason to keep up appearances.

"James Potter." James flinched at the old, haggard voice, turning in his chair just enough to see Mrs. Figg standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Your parents left clear instructions that your homework should be finished _before_ you play with your siblings, so I do hope you're done and not just misbehaving."

James hesitated, glancing at the half-finished sheets. Well, it wasn't like he'd actually need any of this nonsense, was it? Close enough.

"I'm just finishing," he lied, dipping the quill in ink and pretending to return to work. The answer must have appeased her, because she returned to the living room without another word. He let the quill drop into the ink and fell back against his chair. "How long do you think it would take to break her?"

"Mentally or physically?" Lily asked.

"Well, she's a couple decades past ancient as it is, so either, I guess." James shrugged, throwing one arm over the back of his chair and using his other hand to tap out a rhythm on the table.

"You can't do that to poor Mrs. Figg," Albus said, furrowing his brow and scowling. As young as he was, the action almost seemed comical.

"What do you mean? 'Course I can. It's really not all that hard."

"But she doesn't deserve any of that. She's a harmless old woman."

"It's not like she can really do anything about it. She's a _Squib_ , after all."

Albus grunted, nibbling the last bit of fruit off the core of his apple and tossing it towards the bin. It missed by several feet. James raised his hand and focused as hard as he could. The magic was there, a slight tingling in his veins, but controlling it—well, that was another story. He'd been practicing lately, with some degree of success. Slowly, the apple core stirred, scuttling across the floor before bouncing off the side of the bin three times and then going in. Not as effective as he'd hoped. Tom Riddle had been much more proficient at this age without even knowing about the Wizarding world. James was falling behind.

Albus ignored the magic, instead turning his attention to Lily.

"You don't plan on going along with this, do you?" he asked.

Lily shrugged at first, busy dissecting one of the dolls Mum insisted on giving her. It had become a game, almost, with leaving dismembered doll parts around the house and then feigning ignorance.

"Well...he's got a point," she admitted, grunting as she pulled off an arm. She examined her handiwork for a moment, making sure it had been a clean break, before adding, "Besides, she makes us eat _brussel sprouts._ The woman's a menace."

"When you put it like that..."

"Do it for the brussel sprouts?"

Albus hesitated, but he eventually shook his head and said, "No, not even for that. It's still not right."

"Do what you want, but I, for one, am sick of her pushing us around," James said as he stood and walked over to the sink. "Just who does she think she is, anyway?"

"Our _sitter._ "

James glared at him, and Albus stared back, unblinking. Such a do-gooder; what a nuisance. It wasn't as if they'd asked for a sitter, nor did they have need for one. It was just one more person getting in the way.

"What are you doing?" Albus asked as James twisted the knobs in the sink until the water was streaming at full blast. He didn't answer; he owed no explanations. He pulled the plug off the edge and shoved it in the drain, watching as the water started to rise in the basin.

"Don't forget the soap," Lily said, abandoning the half-dismembered doll on the table as she approached and pointed at the bottle. She was too short yet to do it herself, so James squeezed about a quarter of the remaining liquid into the sink, where it immediately started to foam.

"C'mon, let's go."

James ushered her out of the room and into the small, adjoining laundry room, where they hid in the cabinet. There was just enough space for both of them to fit. Thank Merlin they were still small. Through the slits, they had a good view of the kitchen. Albus was muttering to himself, too low to hear, as he dragged a chair over to the sink so he could reach. He was too slow, as water and bubbles started leaking over the edge, but James couldn't let him mess with their plans. It was too perfect. He cracked the door to the cabinet just far enough to stick a leg out and kick the washing machine, the sound echoing through the house like a metallic roar.

Shuffling and noise from the living room. Success! Albus seemed to realize, too, but not soon enough.

"Albus Severus Potter!" came the shrill cry. "What do you think you're doing? Look what a mess you've made!"

It _did_ look rather bad, what with Albus standing on the chair, shirt soaked and sudsy, with his hand on the knob. It was his own fault. If he hadn't tried to interfere...

"But I—" Albus began.

"I expect you to clean this mess up. All of it."

"But—"

"Now! No excuses."

Albus kept his gaze on the floor as he shuffled into the laundry room for towels, glancing up momentarily to scowl as he walked passed the cabinet. James couldn't help but snicker. It wasn't every day he got the upper hand. Was this how justice felt? The giddiness was delicious.

They waited for a few minutes, and when he was sure the coast was clear, James motioned for Lily to follow. They snuck back out of the closet, past Albus, who looked up briefly before returning to cleaning, and through the living room to the stairs. Mrs. Figg was on the couch, reading some sort of book—trashy literature aimed at the feeble minds of old ladies, no doubt.

"Hey, where are you going?" James asked as Lily wandered off when they hit the landing on the second floor.

"Mum and Dad's room. They're not home to stop us, are they?"

"Guess not."

It was the one place they weren't allowed. Ever. Which made it all the more enticing, James had to admit. Lily opened the door easily. Their parents weren't even smart enough to put up wards or a locking charm or anything, the fools.

"What do you think is in here?" James whispered, though he wasn't sure why he was bothering to keep his voice down. It wasn't like they were at risk of being overheard. "I mean, Dad had the Cloak at some point, right? Probably still does. Who knows what else he's found through his job and stuff."

"Could be anything," Lily agreed, opening the drawer to the nightstand and rifling through it. There must not have been anything of interest in it, because she closed it again a minute later.

James pulled open the first drawer of the dresser and started sifting through the undergarments.

Lily paused from her own exploration to ask, "Really?"

"What? They're not particularly bright, Mum and Dad, are they? If you were a bit dull, where would _you_ keep your important stuff? Everyone puts them in their knicker drawer."

Sure enough, a bit more digging produced a long, thin box. James pulled off the lid to reveal a long, wooden stick, expertly carved, though looking a bit worse for wear.

"Why would Mum and Dad keep a wand in here?" Lily wondered aloud as she inspected the box.

There weren't any identifying markings as far as James could tell. It was just a box. Maybe it was special, though it sure didn't _look_ all that special.

"Here, hold this," James said as he shoved the box into Lily's hands. Carefully, he pulled the wand out and held it out. He wasn't exactly new to all this, so maybe if he focused hard enough...

As soon as he swooshed the wand, the room sprung to life as if it was possessed. The doors slammed open, the light bulbs shattered, and all the drawers jumped out of the furniture, spitting clothes in all directions.

"Watch what you're doing!" Lily hissed, grabbing the wand. Everything fell still. She managed to cram it back into the box and close the lid without inflicting any further damage.

"Whose wand do you think—"

The thought was interrupted as Albus poked his head in and let out a startled cry.

"What have you _done?_ Mum and Dad are gonna freak!" Albus mussed his hair as he chewed the inside of his cheek. His face blanched while he surveyed the damage, causing the few light freckles he'd gathered to seemingly darken in comparison.

James went to answer, but a noise gave him pause. What was that? Footsteps on the stairs. Lily must have heard it, too, because she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the other side of the room.

"In here," she whispered as she dropped to her knees and crawled under the bed. It was a much tighter fit for James, but he managed to squeeze under it just the same, pressing against the wall in the back to make sure they were hidden from view.

"ALBUS POTTER!" The voice boomed around the room. Even though he couldn't see her, James could picture the old hag's face turning Weasley red, and for a moment she just spluttered angrily before she found the words she was looking for. "I don't know _what_ has gotten into you. You know you're not allowed in here, and what have you done to this place?"

From where he was under the bed, James could just make out Albus digging his socked toes into the carpet, remaining silent.

"What have you got to say for yourself?"

"I'll clean it up, ma'am."

"Darn right you will."

There was an indignant huff, then stomping in the hall receding down the stairs. James and Lily waited until it was out of earshot before crawling out from under the bed.

"I can't believe you actually got caught for a second time," James laughed. Merlin, the look on Albus' face was _priceless_. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"If _you_ were smart, you'd quit the jokes," Albus said as he picked up the closest drawer and shoved it back into its place in the dresser.

James scoffed as he entered the hall. It wasn't like there was anything Albus could do to him at this point, and he certainly wouldn't be intimidated by a four-year-old. He'd have to try much harder than that if he actually expected James to stop.

It took 47 minutes for Albus to finish cleaning the room. Just to be sure, James had counted every glorious minute of it. In that time, he and Lily had managed to leave a trail of dismembered doll parts leading to the back door, hide Mrs. Figg's keys, and lock the knob of nearly every door of the house from the inside before closing all the doors. Including the bathrooms. Sure, Mum and Dad would come home and undo it all with a wave of their wands and a quick _alohamora_ , but there was something satisfactory in knowing that Mrs. Figg would have to suffer until then.

By the time Albus descended the stairs, James was in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water. Lily, as far as he knew, had already snuck upstairs to her room to figure out what they should do next.

The hinges on the front door groaned as it opened, followed by loud stomping through the living room. James sucked down the last of his water and set his cup near the sink before deciding to investigate. Before he had a chance, Albus was already in the kitchen, stomping up to him.

"Mrs. Figg had to go to the bathroom," Albus said casually, slipping his feet out of the shoes. "I found your shoes, by the way, by the front door. Not a smart place to leave them."

It was only as Albus was leaving that James noticed the trail of muddy prints dragging through the kitchen and extending out through the carpet in the other room. Prints that led right up to him. Prints made by his shoes. Now would be a good time to abandon ship.

"James Sirius Potter!"

James flinched at the sound. Too late. That bastard had set him up! The old biddy launched into some sort of animated lecture, but James tuned her out. His mind was already scheming. Albus had just declared war, and James had every intention of meeting the challenge. This was only just the beginning.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Should probably explain the title. In my headcanon, Gellert's patronus is a phoenix, so that ends up being the animal I associate him with. Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to leave reviews. :) It's always nice to hear your thoughts on the story thus far. Also, three chapters just wasn't enough to wrap up where I wanted to end, and I'm having so much fun writing this, so there will be a fourth chapter.


	4. The Shadow-Speakers

**[August 22, 2013]**

James had only ever heard Lily cry— _really_ cry—once in her life, behind a closed door where she likely figured no one would overhear. Except he had, but he kept walking as if he hadn't all the same. That was about a year ago now. That was the day, James assumed, that she figured out exactly what it was Death had stolen.

But that Lily was nothing like the dry-eyed child in front of him, ear pressed to the door, tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she strained to listen to the discussion on the other side.

"Here. I nicked these from Uncle George's shop," James said as he pulled some Extendable Ears from his pocket and passed them out to his siblings. Albus took his, but not before giving him a disapproving glare. "What? It's not like they'll be missed. Besides, you want to hear what's going on, don't you?"

"Stuff up. I can't hear over your mouth," Lily whispered. She already had the Extendable Ear connected to her own with the other end slid under the door. James and Albus followed suit without another word.

"...don't know what we should do," Mum was saying by the time James got the damned thing in place in his ear. One would think they'd make technology aimed at children a bit more, well, child-friendly.

"We're not even sure of anything yet. She's young still. Maybe she's, you know, a late bloomer." Dad's voice was louder, closer, and interrupted by intermittent footsteps as he presumably paced the width of the room.

"But what if..."

"What if she's a Squib?"

The pacing stopped, and the room fell quiet as if it were in mourning for the lost possibilities. When Dad spoke again, his voice sounded more haggard, more resigned, but firm just the same.

"Even if she is, she's still our daughter. There's not a thing wrong with it. In case you forgot, my family's full of Muggles."

"That's not what I—" Mum's voice was shaky and weak.

"I know it's not. It'll be fine, honey. Really."

"Maybe...maybe we should send her to a Muggle primary."

"Out of the question." The response was sharp and pointed, and the familiar beat of pacing closely followed it.

James shared a look with Albus, whose face was scrunched up and overrun by worry lines. They had all known it. Of course they had. Only, it wasn't something that had ever been voiced, because once an idea was given credence, there was no way to take it back. Oh, but they were all aware. There was no doubt Lily was a Squib.

"Listen, Ginny, I don't know what's going on, but it's dangerous. We're on high alert at work. Some group that calls themselves Shadow-Speakers. Dunno how many of them there are or where they came from, but they're causing quite a stir."

"You don't think...I mean, it's not going to be like..."

"No. No, of course not. Don't even think like that. I won't let our kids suffer through a war like we did."

While the concern was admirable, and the words were tinged with fierce paternal instinct, the thought was perhaps misplaced. Live through a war? Hell, two out of three of them had _started_ wars and the third wasn't altogether innocent, either. Across from him, Lily rolled her eyes, though James wasn't sure what part it was that she objected to.

There was nothing but unnerving silence sitting on the other side of the door. One minute. Two minutes. Then three. What could they be doing? Finally, the bed groaned in time to Dad's heavy sigh.

"We need to keep them close. Watch them. _All_ of them. And if Lily doesn't have any magic, we'll just have to teach her other ways of protecting herself."

"You think that'll be enough?" Mum's voice was meek, hesitance drawing out each word.

"We've got some of the best Aurors on the case. They'll handle it. We just have to give it time."

There was the rustling of clothes and bedsheets and then approaching footsteps. They all yanked their Extendable Ears from under the door and hurried down the hall, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards. Lily's room was first, and they all packed in there, with James at the rear, closing the door just as Mum and Dad's door opened.

"What kind of name is _Shadow-Speaker_?" James scoffed as he rolled up his Extendable Ear and returned it to his pocket.

"I may be going out on a limb here, but I'm assuming they're people who speak to shadows." Lily wadded up her Ear and threw it at him before she plopped onto the bed, hands behind her head, and stared at the ceiling. "Besides, what kind of name is _Death Eater_?"

"It was a _metaphor_ ," James snapped. Ungrateful little Squib. He grabbed her desk chair and took a seat.

"Sounds like Dark magic to me," Albus said, staring out the window. James knew that look. He couldn't imagine exactly what it was Albus was seeing, but it was a safe bet that it had nothing to do with what actually lay beyond the windowpane.

"I'd say you're right, though none that I've ever come across." Lily rolled onto her stomach, crossing her feet behind her back. "What about you, no-nose?"

"What'd you call me?"

"It was a metaphor."

Albus turned further towards the window so his body shielded his face, but James could see his reflection grinning in the window. Let them laugh while they still could. At the very least, he could take comfort in the fact that he'd been the one to voice the final curse that had severed Lily's ties to the mortal world—for a while, anyway—and it had been his genius behind Albus' death, as well, if not his hand.

"Jokes aside, the real question is what we intend to do about this," Lily said as she twirled her hair around her finger.

"Nothing. That's about all we _can_ do." Albus forsook his view of the dreary, overcast world outside to turn back to the room. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"You can't really expect us to leave Dad to do this himself. Put our fate in the hands of that incompetent git? He couldn't even defeat a fly."

"That incompetent git, as you put it, managed to kill you, if memory serves."

"Well, he certainly didn't do it on his own, did he?"

"No, and he won't do this alone, either. For now, all we can do is trust in his generation. This isn't our fight. Not this time. Remember, we're just a bunch of little kids."

James studied his siblings— _really_ studied them. They did make a pitiful lot, with Lily magicless at five and Albus only seven. At nine, James was better off than both of them, but without a wand and with meager control over his powers, there wasn't much he could do. As much as he hated to admit it, Albus was right. They had no choice but to put their faith in others. James had a major problem with that, especially when the man he was supposed to trust his life to was Harry Potter.

 **...(X)...**

 **[August 19, 2014]**

The sizzle of bacon was like music to his ears, and James' stomach growled in anticipation.

"Then what happened?" Albus asked, leaning forward on the edge of his chair to the point where it teetered dangerously on the two front legs. James had already missed the majority of the conversation—not that he was really missing out. They'd all heard Dad's stories _ad nauseam_. Nothing ever changed about them, and he never told the good, juicy ones about the war, so what was the point?

"Well, Uncle Ron took his wand and shoved it right up the troll's nose."

"Ugh, gross!" Albus said, but he laughed just the same.

"How come you didn't get expelled?" James asked, eyeing the stack of bacon sitting mostly unattended on the counter. As tempting as it was, he didn't dare risk it. Mum was attentive as a hawk, and her fury was swift.

"Pure dumb luck." Mum slipped an egg onto his plate as she spoke, making her way around the table before reaching Dad. He gave her a sheepish grin and a shrug, pecking her lightly on the cheek before she walked away. Albus and Lily giggled; James' stomach churned.

"Funny. That's what McGonagall said, too."

Mum returned the pan to the stove and brought over the rest. Finally! James' stomach released one more low grumble as his plate was heaped full of food.

"Y'know," Lily started with her mouth full of food, but a sideways glare from Mum silenced her, and she finished chewing and swallowed before continuing. "School starts soon."

"That's right. I already talked to Mister Elway, and he's ready to go soon as September rolls around," Dad answered between mouthfuls.

That house-elf was a bloody menace. James still hadn't figured out exactly how Mister Elway had managed to earn his freedom, but it wouldn't have surprised him in the least bit if it was underhanded and involved some sort of poison. He certainly seemed the type—agreeable on the outside while plotting beneath the surface.

"I don't _want_ Mister Elway to teach me this year."

"Hrm?"

Dad was only half-listening as he chomped on some bacon, but James had heard the implications loud and clear. A sausage dangled from his fork, but he weighed the options, ultimately returning it to his plate. No, this was far more interesting than breakfast.

"I want to go to primary." The tone was matter-of-fact and straightforward, as if the decision had already been made. Well, it clearly _had_ been; Mum and Dad just didn't know it yet.

Dad started mid-swallow, spluttering as he fought to dislodge the food stuck in his windpipe. His face turned pale and then a lovely crimson, and James thought _just maybe..._

No such luck. With a swig of milk, Dad gasped for air and finally cleared his throat a few times for good measure.

"Sweetie," his voice croaked with the words, "I thought we talked about this..."

"No, you and Mum talked about it. Nobody asked me."

"I know you might not understand, but we just want to make sure you're safe." Dad adjusted his glasses once, then again, eyes flitting towards Mum, who was leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. It wasn't time, yet, for her to offer her two knuts.

"But Muggles don't have _magic_. How can they be all that dangerous?"

"Trust me, they have their ways."

"Then I'll learn karate!"

Lily's voice was taking a shrill turn, making it apparent that she was losing her patience. That was never a good sign. With or without magic, she was a force to reckon with when she wanted to be. James had had the misfortune of learning that first hand.

"What's karate?" Albus asked as he nibbled on a sausage, head propped up on his free hand.

"It's Muggle fighting," Lily said without elaborating. Albus shrugged and returned to his breakfast.

"You know, fighting isn't always an answer." Finally, Mum joined the conversation. Not that she really added much to it.

"Grandma says you used to fight with your brothers all the time." Lily shrugged as she said it, shoving some eggs in her mouth. Mum frowned, uncrossed her arms, and then crossed them again.

"Not _all_ the time, and that's different. No one got hurt."

"That's not what Grandma says. She said you always used to use the Bat-Bogey Hex to teach them a lesson."

"I think I need to have a word with Grandma and what she tells you."

Mum pushed off the counter she was leaning on and walked around the table, kneeling down beside Lily's chair. She pushed a loose strand of hair behind Lily's ear and looked at her closely for a few seconds before speaking.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Mmhmm." Lily nodded hard enough to make her pigtails bounce against her shoulders.

"Then, I guess it's fine with me."

"But Ginny..."

Mum silenced Dad with a look that clearly said 'not here'. The decision was settled. Whatever discussion they had behind closed doors, later when they thought no one was listening, wouldn't actually change anything.

When Lily looked across the table at him, James nodded. He still had his stash of Extendable Ears. They wouldn't miss a word of it.

 **...(X)...**

 **[September 30, 2014]**

"There's been another one, you know," Albus announced as he barged into the room without knocking and flopped down on the bed.

"Hi to you, too." James didn't look up from his paper. He wasn't even learning magic yet. How could there possibly be so many things he was supposed to know at this point? All of it, useless. "I'm busy. Scram."

"You're not even going to ask?"

With a heavy exhale, James deposited the quill in the ink bottle and slung an arm over the back of his chair as he twisted around. Albus wasn't even looking at him. No, instead, the boy was sprawled out on his back staring at the ceiling, tracing invisible shapes in the air with his index finger.

"Well, what is it?" James asked.

"Another murder. Dad's left already."

"Who was it this time?"

"Dunno. Didn't catch a name. But it was definitely them."

"Huh."

James turned back to his desk and brushed his homework aside. Where was it, now? Somewhere under all the junk. Ah, there! He pulled out the calendar and traced back the days. First one this month. The one before that was three weeks ago. Before that, three months. Either they were finding what they were looking for or they were getting desperate.

"Did you learn anything new on them?" James asked as he dug through his mental archives. They were attacking wizards who were historians, who kept Dark artifacts, who were skilled when it came to Dark magic. That in and of itself wasn't a very prolific discovery, nor did it really pique his interest. But the _rumors_. Now there was something to be excited about.

Eyewitnesses, the few that there were, mentioned a legion of shadows behind the attack, solid enough to do damage, but how do you stop something that isn't actually alive? James just _had_ to know how it was done. Imagine the things he could do with an army of shadows.

When he glanced up, James realized Albus had his head off the bed, hanging upside down, green eyes studying him.

"So, uh." James cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on his desk again to cover up his calendar. "Have you managed to find anything?"

"I was waiting for you to ask that." Albus rolled back onto his stomach and pulled something from his pocket. James didn't even get a glimpse of it before Albus said, "Take a look," and flung it across the room.

James fumbled with it a minute before managing to steady the thing in his lap. It was a book, or it had been in its past life. The hard leather covering was weathered, pockmarked with ragged holes and frayed at the edges. The pages crinkled as he leafed through them—yellowed and stained by time and Merlin knew what else. As far as he could tell, it was a diary, judging by the dates every few pages or so, but the rest was written in ancient runes.

"I can't read this." With a thud and a flurry of dust, he snapped the book closed and tossed it back across the room. "What's it say?"

"It's a research journal. Dark magic, like nothing I've ever heard of before. There's a lot of technical jargon, lots of failed attempts." Albus leafed through the pages as he spoke, not pausing to read any of them. "But here, this is the real interesting part." He stopped on a page and held it up. The symbol there was familiar: a triangle within a circle with a line bisecting the two.

"They're after the Hallows?" James was almost disappointed. How unoriginal.

"Not quite." Albus closed the book and slid it back into his pocket. He stretched out on the bed, resting his head on his hands, before continuing. "They're just a means to an end. What they're really after is Death himself."

"To kill him? I mean, _can_ you kill Death?"

"No idea, but they don't want to kill him. They want to _overthrow_ him."

But to what end? It was a dangerous game they were playing. Even he had enough sense not to take on Death. Even if they were to succeed, what would they gain? They were foolish if they believed Death would ever willingly take orders from anyone. James didn't exactly know the being, but he was sure of that much, at least.

"How'd you get that thing anyway?"

"Well, you see, there's this phoenix..."

"Albus! Time to get ready for bed!"

They started at the sudden voice. Mum had brilliant timing, as always. Albus shrugged and rolled off the bed and onto his feet. It wasn't like he would've shared much more than that anyway. James had been aware of the pesky bird in his previous life, but not that Albus had made contact with it again.

"Albus!" The voice was shriller now, more impatient.

"Coming, Mum!"

When he was sure he was alone, after Albus' footsteps disappeared down the stairs, James fell back against his chair. Things were about to get interesting, and there he was, too young to properly do anything at all about it. Not even a wand to his name. Pitiful.

There was, however, something he _did_ have. Something they'd eventually come for. James reached into his desk drawer and popped out the false bottom, extricating a small package wrapped in brown paper. It'd been the safest place he could think of, but it wasn't safe enough. He shoved the package under his arm, poked his head into the hall to make sure no one was coming, and crept down to Lily's room.

Everything was dark and still, given that she'd been put to bed an hour ago. Perfect. No one would come looking for him, or at least not until it was his turn. James slipped into the room, closing the door behind him without a sound. He stood still for a minute, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Everything was a mess of shadows, but he could identify Lily as the lump in the bed toward the middle of the room. She seemed to be sleeping, but James knew better.

"Hey. Get up." James slapped her feet to get her to move them as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"What do you want?"Lily pulled her legs into her chest and sat up. There was no trace of sleep in her voice; James figured she intended on being up for several hours still.

"Your birthday's not over yet, right? Well here. This is for you." James shoved the package into her arms, and she let out a soft _oof_ in response. The paper crinkled as she grabbed it, and James forced himself to let go before he changed his mind. To let something like this slip between his fingers...No, it was for the best. Things had to happen this way.

"What's this?"

Lily eyed the package, and James had to admit she had plenty of reason to be suspicious. That didn't make her reluctance any less annoying, though.

"Just open it."

Tentative fingers tore back the wrapping. What spilled out shimmered even in the darkness, as if it was made of light itself.

"But this is..."

"That's right. Who would suspect a mere Squib to have the Cloak of Invisibility?"

"How'd you get it?"

"Wasn't that hard. Dad had buried it in the closet. Probably forgot about it years ago."

That wasn't exactly the truth. In fact, it had taken months of planning, a bit of lockpicking skills, and Dad's utter carelessness to get the job done. James had managed to slip a normal invisibility cloak in the box in its stead, and so far no one had noticed. It wasn't like anyone ever used the thing, judging by the condition of the box it was kept in. If anything, he was liberating an important wizard artifact. What was so wrong about that?

"But why _me_?" Lily asked as she pulled the Cloak around her shoulders, leaving her just a floating head on the bed next to him.

"You might be utterly useless when it comes to actual magic, but I figure you can at least manage to keep this safe. You've got your Muggle fighting—whatever the stupid thing is called—right? And the element of surprise. Or are you saying I've overestimated you?"

"But I..." Lily paused as she stared at the silvery cloth in her lap. With a shake of her head, she continued, "Of course I can. So maybe you got the magic, but I've got more brains than both you and Albus combined."

"That's rather what I'm counting on."

James was relieved that it was dark and there was no one to see the smirk that betrayed him. Cheeky little Squib that she was, Lily still may serve a purpose after all. He might just keep her around.

 **...(X)...**

 **[January 1, 2015]**

The Floo flared in the study. They could hear it even from the living room, and Albus was the first to jump to his feet, scattering Lily's blocks as he did so. She pursed her lips and glared, but as it went entirely unnoticed, she eventually started setting them right again.

A moment later, Dad stepped into the living room.

"Happy New Year, Potters!"

James figured it was nice of him to notice, given how much he'd been working lately now that he was Head Auror and assigned to the Shadow-Speaker case. It sure made gathering information easier, but it also meant late hours and meager family time.

"Mister Elway says you're supposed to make resolutions. Did you make any?" Albus asked as Dad swept him into a hug.

"Resolutions, huh?" Dad ruffled James' hair in passing but left him to the model he was working on. Instead, he went and sat next to Lily, planting a kiss on her forehead and starting to build something with her blocks. Lily looked none-too-pleased about the attention, nor did she seem to particularly want to share, and it was all James could do not to laugh at her misfortune. Better her than him. "I suppose my resolution would be to spend more time with you guys. Look at how big you've all gotten. And James'll be starting Hogwarts this year. When did that happen?"

Merlin, if he launched into a "they grow up too fast speech," James figured he'd hurl. The past eleven and a half years had been slow as far as he was concerned, the slowest eleven and a half years of both his lives.

"You remember our first years at Hogwarts, honey?" Dad asked with a laugh, but the smile slipped right off his face when he realized Mum was glowering at him. "Erm, well, I'm sure your first year will be nothing like ours."

James was certain that meant something, but he had to really search his brain to remember. At some point, everything bled together; he was both Tom and not Tom while still being James. But yes, there it was. Dad's first year was that mess with the incompetent duffer who couldn't even handle taking on an eleven-year-old boy. And Mum...Now _that_ was an interesting first year. Of course, it had cost him a basilisk and a horcrux, which was a rather high price to pay. But no, he had no intention of replicating his parents' first years.

"What house do you think you'll get?" Lily asked, smiling sweetly. Innocently. As if. James knew better than to trust that look. Did she really imagine he'd be foolish enough to fall for that?

"Who knows." James shrugged as he spoke, pretending to focus on a difficult part of his project. "Probably Gryffindor like Mum and Dad, I s'pose."

" _I'd_ be a Ravenclaw like Aunt Luna."

James scoffed. "You'd probably be a 'Puff."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Now, now, there's nothing wrong with any of the houses," Dad interrupted. That didn't stop Lily from sticking her tongue out at James when no one was looking.

"Before you know it, our babies will be all grown up." Mum sniffed as she swept her gaze around the three of them. If she started crying, so help him, James would abandon ship and seek sanctuary in his room. But she didn't. She plastered a transparent smile on her face, even as her eyes grew watery. James appreciated the effort. Anything to avoid the waterworks.

"I can't wait to grow up. I'm going to be a Healer," Albus said with a shrug. It was a horrible profession, a disgraceful waste of his abilities, and James couldn't imagine his reasoning for it, but he seemed certain. "What about you, Lily?"

"I'm gonna be the Minister for Magic."

"A Squib can't be Minister for Magic," James said, rolling his eyes. Sometimes—OK, most times—it was taxing being part of this family.

"Of course they can. There's nothing that says the Minister for Magic has to have a wand. They just have to know about the magical community and be able to lead and work with the Muggles."

"What happens when someone decides to assassinate you? It's not like you can protect yourself."

"I'll carry a handgun."

James made a mental note: find magical protection against bullets. Someone had to have considered it, since most magical barriers were intended to prevent magic and slower projectiles. Just in case. He wasn't about to let Lily have the upper hand.

Dad started, nearly toppling half of the tower of blocks he was building, but he managed to catch them just in time. "Honey, we don't shoot people."

"Not even if they're trying to kill us first?"

Dad shot Mum a pleading look, but she just shook her head and sipped her tea in silence. She wasn't touching that one with a ten-foot pole. It was obvious which one of them had the brains in the relationship.

"Er, what about you, James? Any idea what you want to be when you grow up?"

It seemed inappropriate to say, "A Dark Lord," given the circumstances, so instead he said, "An Auror, I suppose." Having insight into the inner workings of the government would certainly be useful, not to mention having the right to legally kill others for the sake of the "mission." It was a position he could get used to.

"Just like your old man, huh?" Dad chuckled and mussed James' hair.

"'Course, Dad," James grumbled, waiting for his father to look away before smoothing his hair back into place. What was his obsession with looking like a disheveled dog anyway?

There was a rush of sound from the hallway; the Floo was flaring up again. Dad stood as he slipped his wand hand into his robes, but he relaxed when Minister Shacklebolt rounded the corner. He looked older than James remembered, with more wrinkles and sporting bags under his eyes the size of galleons.

"Ginny," he said, though his voice came out more like a deep sigh, as he bowed his head in her direction. "I hate to interrupt, but do you mind if I borrow your husband for a few minutes?"

"I won't be long, honey. Promise." Dad bent over the couch, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and flashed what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile. It didn't work. Mum smiled and nodded, but she said nothing. They all knew he was lying. If he even returned at all that evening, it'd be a miracle.

James glanced across the room to Lily, who was busy convincing Albus to play dolls with her. Not that it took much coercing at all, the way he doted on her. What if she was right? What if, after everything, she _could_ become the Minister for Magic? Once upon a time, their causes hadn't been all that dissimilar. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, this could all work out in his favor yet.

 **...(X)...**

 **[June 15, 2015]**

Flashes of light. Thunderclaps of sound. The house rocked.

At first, James thought he was dreaming, but as he opened his eyes, the sensations became clearer rather than fading away. He leapt out of bed, cursing as his feet met the cold floor. At least it was enough to shock him awake.

James yanked the door open and stopped. The hall was littered with shadows marching along the walls and ceiling, moving as if they were alive, like little soldiers. It was almost intimidating, almost impressive, if it hadn't been such a bloody nuisance.

James poked his head around the corner. Lily and Albus were already in the hall, Albus shielding his sister with his body and Lily holding a wooden stick for some Muggle sport she played. What was it called? Ah yes, a bat. He wasn't sure whom was protecting whom, but even if a bat could physically stop them, it wouldn't last for long. You can't _wound_ shadows, after all.

"Mum and Dad's room!" James shouted at them and braced himself for the response. It was immediate. The shadows nearest to him whirled around. One grabbed his ankle, one grabbed his wrist. He drove his free foot into the head of the shadow on the ground, and it squealed as it released its hold. With a well-placed left hook, he freed his hand and dove deeper into the hall. It was like navigating a minefield, and as much as he tried to rush, he had to stop every so often to fend off the shadows that clawed at him.

"Hurry up!" Lily hissed, taking three shadows out in one swing as they attempted to force their way into the room. They'd already made it, leaving the door ajar just enough for him to slip in. James kicked off a shadow that clutched his leg, and Lily took out the one on his back. The moment he was in the room, he fell against the door and slammed it shut. There was a shrill howl from the few shadows that were foolish enough to get caught as it closed, but it wouldn't slow them down for long.

James felt along the wall for the light switch, but when he flipped it back and forth he received only a gentle click. No power. Just great.

"The dresser! There's a wand," he said as he fell to his knees and pulled out a bottom drawer. It had been years since they'd found it. There was no guarantee it was actually still there, but it was the best plan they had so far. James could barely see his hands as he threw clothes aside, and the rest of the room was little more than amorphous blobs, but there was no mistaking the way the darkness surged around them. They were running out of time.

"Got it!" That was Lily's voice, though James could only see her faint outline. Of course the Squib would find it. The only one of them who couldn't actually _use_ the damn thing.

There was scuffling. Something tugged at his clothes, and he swung at it.

"Do something with that bloody thing already!"

A few squeals and then the dresser rocked, but James couldn't properly see what was going on.

" _Lumos Maxima!_ "

Finally! White light poured out of the wand, illuminating Albus' sweaty face. The shadows shrieked as it vaporized them, washing over the room until they were floating in a sea of white.

"Took you long enough," James grumbled as he stood.

"Sorry. Was a bit preoccupied." Albus switched the wand to his other hand, fretting a moment as he gave Lily a once-over with his eyes. She was fine. They all were, as far as James could tell.

"You still have it?" James asked, and Lily nodded without further explanation. "Good. Put it on, both of you. Make sure she gets to the Floo, Al. Go to Grandma and Grandpa's. They'll know what to do."

"What about you?" Albus seemed unsure. There was almost a softness in his tone. Was that concern James heard? Such a foolish wizard.

"I get to be the decoy."

He thought Albus might argue, not that it would have done any good, but the younger boy just nodded and disappeared under the Invisibility Cloak as Lily draped it around them. The light faded bit by bit, and by the time James wrapped his hand around the doorknob, it was gone completely.

His breathing was rushed, regardless of how he fought to steady it, and his racing pulse and pounding heart were just further accelerants to the flame that burned in his gut. The sweat that slicked his palms and the slight tremor in his hand? Excitement. It drove a smile to his lips. Maybe he had lost his mind after all, but after all this time, the chance to fight was exhilarating.

One more sharp inhale. On the count of three. One. Though he couldn't see them, James knew his siblings were in place at his side and ready to move as soon as he did. Two. The shadows weren't acting of their own accord; there was a puppet master somewhere in the house. There _had_ to be. Three.

James yanked the door open and rushed into the hallway. He was halfway to the stairs before the shadows had a chance to descend on him, and they were more determined than ever. James clawed them off of him, threw punches and kicks when he could, but there was too many.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, wobbling on the edge when a shadow hit him from behind and latched onto his back. They were weightless, mostly, even if they had semi-corporeal forms, but their touch was cold and clammy and reminded him too much of the grave.

There was a distant _whoosh_ from the study and a dull green that leaked out into the hall. Half the shadows broke away to investigate, but it was too late. Lily and Albus had made it out.

James half-stumbled, half-scooted down the stairs. Below him, the living room flashed an array of colors—white, then red, then green, back to white. The shadows there were denser, more corporeal, and seemed to have taken on almost a life of their own. But they were still just shadows. It was the human in the room James was concerned with, if only he could find it.

James stopped three-quarters of the way down and pressed himself against the stairs. Dad had been backed into a corner, and across the room, Mum was just barely holding her own against a pack of rabid shadow-dogs. But all he saw were shadows. Damn it, where _was_ that bastard?

A shadow wrapped its arm around his neck, and James gasped against the chill that suddenly paralyzed his lungs, as if he was being frozen from the inside out. He slammed his back against the stairs, and the shadow fell away—for now.

A flash of white. There! It was a nonverbal spell, but James hadn't missed where it'd come from. Another flash of white, then another. The third hit its mark, and Dad's wand skittered across the floor, coming to a full stop just a few feet from the bottom of the stairs.

Dad was defenseless as the shadows closed in on him. It was almost too good. It'd be easy, right then, to struggle back up the stairs and Floo away. He'd have to pretend to mourn for his parents, of course, but then...Well, then, he supposed, he'd be adopted by the _Weasleys_ and forced to live in that disgusting house that smelled like barely edible food and dirty clothes. No, that would never do. Death, the bastard that he was, was right. James _couldn't_ let Harry Potter die. There was only one thing to do.

James flailed his arms and managed to wrest himself free of the shadows. He dove down the stairs, hitting the floor in a roll, and grabbed at the wand. It would obey him; he was sure of it. After all, its twin had been his once, not so long ago, and it was bound to recognize his soul.

James raised the wand toward corner where he'd seen the spells originate. There. It was hard to see, beyond the tricks his eyes played in the darkness, but there was a person there, wearing all black. It'd been a while, a whole lifetime, but the words still felt familiar, dancing around his tongue eager to come out. The magic welled up in him as he gripped the wand tighter.

"James, no! Run!" Dad screamed as he fought a losing battle against the shadows that were all but smothering him. Even from that distance, James could see the way fear contorted his face. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Harry Potter should fear him, not fear _for_ him. Damn it, it was all ass-backwards.

James smiled. Likely not a reassuring one, given the way Dad hesitated, but then it was never meant to be. He could feel his power surging through the wand; it had accepted him. Two shadows latched onto his legs, and one was around his neck, pulling at him. Time to put an end to it all.

" _Avada Kedavra_."

The room flashed green. Time almost seemed to slow as the spell found its mark. The moment the body crumpled, the shadows evaporated. The whole house fell still.

Their eyes met—one pair hazel, the other green—but one set was decorated with fear and wide-eyed realization. James grinned as he lowered the wand. Finally, after all this time, he got to watch the truth dawn on the face he had come to both love and loathe, and the transformation was glorious.

Harry recognized his soul.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is the last chapter, but I've had a lot of fun with this. :3 Thanks to all of you who have read so far and those of you have reviewed. I appreciate you all and the support you've shown me! As always, I really appreciate your comments and thoughts on this!

Looking for more next-gen to read? ChatterChick has some excellent next-gen fics. For something a bit more lighthearted, I recommend, "How to Charm a Witch."

 **Edit:** There will be no sequels to this, as this was never meant to be some epic story. Just a fun idea to explore. However, there _will_ be a complimentary one-shot collection that will pick up from this cliffhanger and describe the moments afterwards as well as have little moments in their lives that I think would be fun to write. :)


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